LIGHTNING THE ASSASSIN

                       Hunt one                  Creating the target.  On the thirtieth floor of a fifty-floor office building behind the door that has CEO Shihon Pharmaceuticals, a phone rang and the man behind the big dark well-polished desk picked up the phone.  He is in his early sixties with full-on grey hair styled on neatly to the back, with a side opening. He is a handsome man, well built for a man of his age.  " Hello, " he speaks into the phone.  " I am sorry sir to inform you that your company lost the bid, " a female voice said from the other side of the phone.  " WHAT!! " He gasped into the phone as all the blood drained from his face.  Suddenly his dark blue tie became too tight for him and he loosened it to alow some air to his clogged up throat.  " May I ask

Dark Shadow sat quietly in a hidden dark corner inside a shady-looking bar nursing his drink while all around him noise and chaos reigned. There was a fighting ring below and people were screaming for the choice of their winner. He had a black hood over his head that kept him hidden from prying eyes and the deadly aura emanating from him made sure no one approached him, but people hardly noticed him because of how hidden he sat. The lack of awareness from the people in the bar didn't mean that Dark Shadow was unaware of everything happening around him. He sat with his back to the wall, and a clear view to the door, that afforded him the knowledge of who enters or leaves the bar a perfect position for anyone who lives with the constant threat to his life.   His lithe frame is primed and alert ready to react at any sign of danger. Once he was done with his drink he stood from the table dropped a couple of bills on it and headed down the iron stairs

The large man sitting on the wooden bench, bare-chested with his upper body full of decorative tattoos of souvenirs from his every kill, and his huge arms muscles bulging under the strain of his opponent trying to force his hand down preened under the adulation of his cheering fans. He drives so much pleasure in confirming his masculinity when he defeats the men that challenge him to arm wrestle in this bar. He has been coming here for years and used the bar as an escape from the shitty life he lives. He was a man that thrives under violence and chaos which is provided to him by the men who contract him to kill for them and here is where he comes to unwind from all those killings and violence. For a few months now he hasn't had any job and he is getting antsy, and the little excitement provided by these challenges and the exhilaration from the crowd is what is keeping him from going bat shit crazy. He looked at the guy sitting across from him. He was big but he was bigg

Harmon BLack made his way into his training studio. His students were already there sitting and chatting in groups. When they caught wind of him they all scattered to their rightful position and stood with rigid attention their focus straight forward, a serious look on all their faces. Harmon is a martial artist who trains students in the ways of Tai chi martial art. He has an impressive height of six ft, a cold sculpted face with handsome features, a well-trimmed built body honed from years of training as a martial artist and kickboxer. He made his way to the front of the class in confident bold swagger and then stood with his hand crossed behind his back to address the class. " Today our main focus is building your internal force and this will include mental balancing, clearing your mind off all stressful thoughts, and relaxing your mind but first, we will start up with the usual warm-up exercise, " his deep baritone voice boomed across the r

The blunt sound of several doors opening filled the empty shipyard. The sun has completely disappeared out of the sky and there was no moonlight or stars only the artificial human lights to illuminate the thick darkness. Six men came down from the two black small Mercedes Benz cars parked at the front side of the shipyard. One older gentleman dressed formally in a long black trench coat, a black shawl wrapped around his neck, a black hat over his half-bald hair, and a black walking stick aiding his walk as he has a bad leg from a car accident a few years ago which limited the use of his right leg. Behind him lay four huge guys looking like movie goons and another looking less threatening in his casual street clothes but with a look in the stormy darkness of his eye,s you will know he is a force to reckon with. " You haven't told me how you got those bruises? " one of the goons asked the causal-dressed guy. The guy had walked in to work a few nights ago looking like he h